


the option of me

by okamiwind



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Immortality, M/M, Significant Age Difference, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: Sehun always understood his professor to be a bit quirky.





	1. Chapter 1

_Sehun met Junmyeon years ago when he was in college, some uselessly horny manchild with stars in his eyes whenever his professor thoughtlessly brought up Quenya and his intricate knowledge of the dialects. _

_Sehun felt small in Junmyeon’s office, being swallowed up by the walls covered in books, his coffee clutched between his hands, his heart thumping in his neck. _

_“Ah, so you really _do_ enjoy Tolkien,” Junmyeon smiled, one leg crossed over the other. “Not many recognize the difference between Vanyarin and Noldorin. You must have done your research.” _

_“Yeah,” Sehun said, and he tapped his nails against his paper cup nervously, “I’m sort of a massive dork for that kind of thing.” _

_“We appreciate the dorkiness,” Junmyeon said, and he leaned in, the waft of sweetly-scented cologne immediately arresting. “Or, at the very least, I do. Now, let’s discuss your goals for the future, shall we? I’d like to advise you as best I can.” _

_Sehun could not be blamed for falling in love with this person, falling head over heels for his strange sense in fashion, for his tangents in _Literature, Gender, and Gender Theory_, for his smile, for his sparkling eyes, for his love of fantasy and for the way he looked at Sehun like he mattered. _  
  


∇

  
  
_They kept in contact after Sehun graduated, and his crush never really died, the friendship between them only serving to strengthen its resolve. Junmyeon bought him dinner to celebrate his acceptance to his Masters program, to celebrate his grants, to celebrate his residency. They saw more and more of each other, and over candlelight and cappelletti, crosswords and coffee, Sehun fell deeply in love with him, much different, much deeper than the love of which a college kid is capable. _

_They went to the lake in the autumn, and Junmyeon brought Sehun coffee every time, almond milk and no sugar. He knew his order, and Sehun tried to ignore the silly, stupid happiness that brought him. He wasn’t a child anymore. It was time to grow up. _

_“You limit yourself based on preconceived notions,” Junmyeon told him. “You always have.” _

_“I know my capabilities,” Sehun corrected him, and instead of looking at the vista, the mountains and the water, he stared at his fingernails. “I have an above-average ability to know myself, and therefore, I am better than most at running risk analysis when it comes to personal decisions.” _

_“You never branch out because you’re scared to fail.” He sipped his coffee, and then, Sehun joined him in staring out at the lake. “The only reason you applied for the residency was because I told you to. Now look where you are. Next fall, you’re going to Orlando. You are writing your first novel. You are doing things you previously thought yourself unable to do. It is part of the human condition to want to protect yourself, but you are overly careful because your fear of failure is overwhelming.” He looked into Sehun’s eyes. Handsome. Perfect. “You seek a level of perfection that does not exist.”_

_Sehun looked back down at his hands, scolded. _

_“Unlike some of us who are just naturally perfect,” Sehun muttered._

_Junmyeon laughed, and his shoulder bumped up against Sehun’s, jarring him into a smile._

_“_Some of us_,” he stressed, “have had a very long time to practice.” _

_Junmyeon did that, emphasized his age. Sehun wondered if it was to dissuade him from pursuing him. He wondered if Junmyeon knew that it wouldn’t work. That nothing would be enough._  
  


∇

  
  
_He kissed Junmyeon the week before he moved, and he was drunk enough to blame it on Vieux Château Certan. _

_Sehun had been to his house only a few times over the years, and on that particular occasion, utterly transfixed by the tour, by Junmyeon’s wine cellar, by his library, by his collection of logic puzzle books and the way he laughed when he was on his way to inebriation, Sehun closed the gap between them, erased the years, and he put Junmyeon against his pristine polished granite counter top. _

_When Sehun pulled back, Junmyeon stared at him with wide eyes, like he’d never even considered it, like he’d never even seen Sehun before with those eyes. Like he was looking at Sehun for the first time. _

_Junmyeon’s mouth was red, and Sehun leaned in again, head dizzy and desperate, and he kissed him hard, tasting flowers, truffles, chocolate. The forest. Sex, sex, sex. _

_“What are you doing?” Junmyeon asked. “Sehun, I—” _

_“I was kissing you,” Sehun said. “I thought that aspect of the evening was perfectly clear.” _

_Junmyeon laughed, bumped his forehead against Sehun’s, and Sehun’s stomach churned the way it always did when Junmyeon did something like that, treated him as if he was a pet rather than a person with whom he could fall in love. _

_“Why are you kissing me?” He touched Sehun on the cheek softly, like silk. “Did you have too much? Do you need to stay the night?” _

_Sehun was twenty-eight years old. He was tired of waiting. Tired of playing a game of chess against someone who didn’t even realize he was moving his pieces._

_“I don’t need anything, I just—Junmyeon, I love you,” Sehun confessed desperately. “Can’t you see that?” _

_“Oh,” Junmyeon said, and his hand fell to Sehun’s shoulder. “Do you really?” _

_Sehun whined as he pulled Junmyeon into another kiss, frantic and needy, and he took Junmyeon into his arms after, hugged him close. _

_“Of course I do,” Sehun said. “Ever since you told that story about going to Tolkien’s grave. I’ve loved you ever since then. Since I was _twenty_.” _

_Junmyeon laughed, shaking in Sehun’s arms. He drew back, studied Junmyeon’s face. His cheeks were painted pink, his hair mussed. _

_“What?” Sehun challenged. “As if that’s a some inconsequential amount of time.” _

_“It is to some.” _

_“Eight years?” Sehun asked. “Eight years isn’t nothing.” _

_“No, not eight of your years,” Junmyeon says. “But eight of mine.” _

_Sehun furrowed a brow. “What are you saying?” He rolled up a fist, punched Junmyeon in the shoulder softly. “Don’t tell me a riddle, either.” _

_“No riddles,” Junmyeon said, and he laced his fingers through Sehun’s. “Follow me.” _  
  


∇

  
  
Junmyeon is immortal. Immortal. Immortal?

“Shut up,” Sehun says, and he looks down at the album, flipping through the pictures frantically, watching Junmyeon’s beautiful face stay exactly the same, from portraits to black and white photography all the way through to color. “Shut up.” He closes the album firmly. “Stop lying. If you don’t like me, you don’t have to lie. I’d rather you just let me, you know, drown myself in the bath like a normal person.” 

Junmyeon smiles at him like he thinks it’s funny. 

“It would certainly be an elaborate way to be rejected, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yes, so quit playing,” Sehun says. “Tell me the truth.” 

“I have lived for one thousand years.” 

“Shut _up_.” 

“Nine hundred and ninety-four years, if we’re being exact about it,” Junmyeon says happily. 

“What the absolute, living _fuck_ are you talking about,” Sehun says. “Why would you be _immortal_?” 

“Why would you be _mortal_?” Junmyeon asks. “Why are we anything? Why are we? Why?” 

Sehun wrinkles his brows in distress, stomps his foot. 

“You said there wouldn’t be riddles!”

“All right, no riddles,” Junmyeon says. He steps forward, holds Sehun by the arms. “I’ve lived for a very long time. I’m very old now.” He smiles sadly. “You should stop this here.” 

“What do you mean? Why would I—” 

“I fell in love once,” Junmyeon tells him. “It hurt them. Deeply. I don’t want you to stand still because of me. I don’t want you to stop living because of me.” 

“You’re the reason I know how to move forward,” Sehun tells him. “You’re the reason I know how to fall in love.” 

Junmyeon searches him, and Sehun stands tall against it. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay,” Junmyeon says. “If you’re sure.” 

“That’s it?” Sehun asks. “No more angst?” 

“I’m not one for angst,” Junmyeon says. “I’ve left that behind me, somewhere back in my two hundreds.”

Sehun yells out a laugh. “God, this makes no fucking sense.” He kisses Junmyeon hard and cast. “Are you... are you sure about this?” 

“If someone as wonderful as you wants to spend awhile with me, then who am I to tell him no?”  
  


∇

  
  
Sehun moves to Orlando for the autumn, and they keep in touch.

“I’m very fond of staying up on technology, as you know,” Junmyeon says, eyebrows crinkling as he stares at Sehun. “The suggestion of letters—” 

“Writing letters is romantic!” Sehun says. “What do you have against letters?” 

“It is an _insult_ to an old man.” Junmyeon looks especially snobbish as he looks into the phone at Sehun. “If I’m to have the choice, I would much rather look at you. Why waste your beauty on a pen-pal when this is much faster and much more pleasing to me?” 

“Whatever,” Sehun scoffs. “I still can't believe you prefer FaceTime to writing. You’re a literature professor. You’ve written, like, a dozen books. You taught me to appreciate writing.” 

“Well, when you’ve been around as long as I have, you eagerly accept every novelty you can find,” Junmyeon smiles. “Speaking of novelty, how is the novel progressing?” 

“I wrote five words today,” Sehun says. 

“Five hundred?” 

“Five. _She looked out the window._” 

“Masterful,” Junmyeon praises, eyes alight like he means it. Sehun hates how much he loves him. “Kerouac be damned.” 

Sehun hangs up, lest Jack’s ghost hear him.  
  


∇

  
  
Sehun finishes the novel by the time the snows hit home. He hasn’t had much time to think about anything besides, too wrapped up in the _What if?_ of it all to pay much mind to the burgeoning, blossoming winter rose right in the very heart of his garden.

Once he’s back, the first place he lands is Junmyeon’s doorstep. 

He is wrapped in a chunky white sweater, sweatpants, bright red slippers. 

“Welcome home,” Junmyeon says. “I thought you said you would call.” 

“Couldn’t help myself,” Sehun says, and that’s all he makes himself say before he launches himself into Junmyeon’s embrace, heartened by the chuckle as the door shuts softly behind him. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Junmyeon asks, tucking the words into the crook of Sehun’s neck. “I could call for something.” 

“I just wanna... I just wanna hold you for a little while, if that’s okay with you.” 

Junmyeon sighs happily, says, “You know, I’ve found that living a life of lonely solitude doesn’t suit me.” He squeezes his arms around Sehun tightly. “I much prefer this option.” 

“The option of me?” Sehun whispers. 

Junmyeon looks into his eyes, his hand along Sehun’s jaw before he gently pulls Sehun to meet him, kissing him for the first time since the first time. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon agree. “The option of you.”  
  


∇

  
  
A nor’easter hammers through, laying several feet of snow at the door, the white winds rattling the foundation, but they do not notice. They barely turn on the heat, their bodies under the blankets generating plenty.

Junmyeon’s head is between his thighs, and Sehun has to resist the overwhelming urge to close his legs around him. He trembles, lets the shocks of pleasure zip through him like shooting stars. He moans brokenly as Junmyeon touches him, kisses him, licks and sucks, the noises like raindrop lust in his stomach. 

"Hold your legs up, please," Junmyeon says politely, mouthing along the thickest part of Sehun's thigh, leaving a bruise-like mark there. "You're not giving me much room to work." 

"N-No, I suppose not," Sehun mutters, and he obeys the command even though he feels so weak with orgasm that he doesn't think he can even come again. "I'm sorry." 

"Apology not accepted," Junmyeon says, and he lays the flat of his tongue against the vein of Sehun's cock, licking enthusiastically before closing his lips around the head and sucking fiercely as if it's some sort of terribly wonderful punishment. 

Sehun throws his head back against the pillows, his back in a wicked arch as Junmyeon takes him torturously deep into his throat, and he moans Junmyeon's name hoarsely, at least the four hundredth time he's done so just that morning. 

"Please," Sehun says. "Please, I'm—" 

Junmyeon pulls off, stroking Sehun despite the oversensitive, frenetic energy that wracks through his body.

"What?" And Sehun looks down at him, looks at him licking the spot behind his balls, just above his hole. "Are you tired? Should I stop? I could get you tea, if you need." 

"What, ginseng?" 

"Well-versed in aphrodisiacs?" Junmyeon asks, and he licks along Sehun's hole until he whimpers and whines, his hold on his legs slipping. "What do you think? Effective or no?" 

"Bullshit," Sehun moans, and Junmyeon rewards him with a sucking kiss. 

"Smart boy," Junmyeon praises. "The only aphrodisiac that you ever need is love." 

"God, we're fucking drowning in it, aren't we?" 

"Too soon to say," Junmyeon says, and he rubs the palm of his hand along the head of Sehun's cock. "Let's see you come again, and then perhaps we'll know for sure."  
  


∇

  
  
The winter is long, and it is cold. Sehun finds a new home at Junmyeon's, watching him beta the novel as he stands there in Junmyeon's study, stark naked.

"You have to let me read it," Junmyeon says starchily, looking at his computer monitor, never even daring to look at Sehun. "Funnily enough, I find it especially difficult to concentrate with a beautiful man just inches away from me." 

"And what about my dick, hm?" Sehun says, and he holds his hands on his hips, gently swings them from side to side, watching as the length of his soft dick sways to and fro. "Do you find it difficult to concentrate _now_?" 

"You are a goober," Junmyeon says, still focused on the monitor. "Are you nervous that I'm reading it?" 

"Yes," Sehun admits. "So don't read it." 

Interestingly, it is then that Junmyeon turns to look at him, look into his eyes. 

"I won't read it if you don't want me to," Junmyeon says. 

_Fuck,_ Sehun thinks. _Fuck._

"I want you to." 

"But?" 

"But I'm scared," Sehun smiles. "Scared you'll hate it." 

Junmyeon pushes up from his chair, and Sehun makes himself small as he crumples into Junmyeon's embrace. 

"You think I fall in love like this every century?" Junmyeon says, and it sounds like the punchline of a joke, but Sehun knows that he means it. "You write well." 

"You've read it all before," and when he says it, he feels tears leap into his eyes. "You've seen it all before, how can I—"

"The best writers are those who know that it's all been done before, and yet, they still manage to do something new," Junmyeon says, and he takes Sehun by the jaw, knocks his forehead into Sehun's before kissing him softly. "Do you think you have something to say with this story?" 

"Yeah," Sehun says. "I do." 

"Do you think you said it?" 

"I hope so." 

"Then, I'd like to read it," Junmyeon smiles. "If you'll let me." 

He is more naked than he's ever been. 

"Yeah, okay," Sehun says, and he closes his eyes, listens to the little sound of Junmyeon's smile.  
  


∇

  
  
Junmyeon finds more and more elaborate ways to celebrate things, and things get progressively stranger as Sehun manages to find a publisher, and he finally gets to step back from the process.

"It is a momentous occasion for a young writer," Junmyeon says. "We should do something special." 

"I'm almost thirty," Sehun says wistfully, and he wiggles down in bed until Junmyeon's arms are settled around him. "I'm not young anymore." 

Junmyeon stares down at him blankly. 

"Okay, point taken," Sehun agrees. "What should we do?" 

"A nice vacation would be appropriate, I think," Junmyeon says. "Is there any place in particular that you'd like to go?" 

Sehun thinks that maybe it's too sickeningly sweet, but still, he says what he's thinking.

"I don't mind where we go, as long as I go with you." 

Junmyeon's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, and he dots a kiss to Sehun's forehead. 

"You are especially charming, but altogether very unhelpful," Junmyeon grades. "A destination, if you please." 

"I don't know," Sehun whines. "I don't care. Why don't you pick? You've gone everywhere. You've done everything. You've got a completed collection of every Epoch puzzle that has ever been manufactured, and you've got them hanging in a vault somewhere." 

"They're not in a vault, they're in one of my libraries." 

"Has anyone told you that you're very out of touch?" Sehun asks. 

"Just you," Junmyeon smiles. 

"Bully for me."

“I’d like to go to Disney World,” Junmyeon notes. “There are still some attractions I’ve yet to see since the renovations.” 

“I went once while I was down there,” Sehun says. “But I just did, like, the big park.” 

“Magic Kingdom,” Junmyeon says. 

“That one.” 

“There is a great deal more to Disney World than just Magic Kingdom, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’m something of a theme park enthusiast.” 

Sehun leans up on one elbow. “_Are_ you now?” He always likes to hear of Junmyeon’s interests, varied and plentiful as they are. 

“It was, at one point in my life, my dream to ride every B&M rollercoaster,” Junmyeon says. 

“And how many times have you achieved that goal?” 

“Several times over,” Junmyeon says with a smile. “I have also completed the Intamin, the RMC, Arrow, and Vekoma challenges.” 

“How many times have you gone on Space Mountain?” Sehun asks, pressing a kiss to Junmyeon’s chest. “Seventeen times?” 

“Oh, more than that, I’d say,” Junmyeon says. “Though, to be quite honest with you, my favorite Disney experience was the original iteration of _Journey into Imagination with Figment_.” Junmyeon grumbles. “_Eric Idle..._” 

“Eric Idle gets your goat?” 

“He has become my greatest enemy. They’ve stripped a priceless dark ride of its _soul_,” Junmyeon frowns. “A modern tragedy. I’ve thought about trying to organize a sponsorship of the pavilion because it hurts me to see it fall to such lows.” 

“I have to see this for myself,” Sehun says, and at once, Junmyeon turns from Sehun, grabs his phone. “What are you doing?

“Buying plane tickets and arranging the accommodations,” Junmyeon says. “Would you prefer the Grand Floridian or the Polynesian?” 

“I... I don’t know,” Sehun says. “It doesn’t matter. Junmyeon, you don’t—” 

“Quiet now,” Junmyeon says, “I’ve amassed an amount of money that some would call hysterical and others would call treasonous.” 

“Jeff Bezos, eat your heart out,” Sehun says. 

“Jeff Bezos, ingest cyanide,” Junmyeon says. “Ah, well... I prefer the Polynesian, and if you’ve no opinion, then I suppose it’s settled. After all, there’s Dole Whip on the premises, and that should be more than enough reason for anyone.” 

“Dole Whip?” 

“Dole Whip.” 

“Which is—” 

Junmyeon stares at him. 

“Sometimes, I greatly enjoy our age difference,” Junmyeon says. “This is not one of those occasions.” 

“Why not?” Sehun asks. “Don’t you enjoy showing me _a whole new world_?” He spreads his hands in a rainbow, raising his eyebrows. 

“You’ve missed out on some of the greatest pleasures of this world, and you expect me to be _happy_ about it?” 

Sehun rolls his eyes, turns over in bed as Junmyeon taps at his phone, and as he does so, Sehun employs a quick Google search. 

“It’s... pineapple ice cream?” 

“One of the greatest pleasures of this world,” Junmyeon says idly, setting his phone down. He leans over, pressing a kiss to Sehun’s cheek. “Next week. Mid-80s and sunny. Please pack appropriately.”  
  


∇

  
  
One of Sehun’s favorite things about Junmyeon is the way he surprises Sehun in nearly everything. Nothing bores him, even things he’s seen and done hundreds, thousands of times. And while he actively searches out new experiences, he takes immense joy from the usual. The normal.

“I was very enchanted by you once,” Sehun says, cross-legged on Junmyeon’s California King. “But now... I can’t tell you what I saw in you.” 

“Oh, you’re being mean,” Junmyeon says, and he adjusts the fanny pack embroidered with his monogram on his waist. “I think it’s very fetching.” 

“You look like a dad.” 

“Maybe I am.” 

“You’re not,” Sehun says. 

“But maybe I _want_ to be,” Junmyeon says. “Would you like to get an animal together?” 

“How many pets have you had?” Sehun asks. 

“It would be much easier to ask how many of each sort,” Junmyeon says, and he unclicks the fanny pack from his waist, placing it into his suitcase. “I have albums of each dog and cat, if you’d like to see them.” 

“Good God,” Sehun says. “How can you... did it fucking tear you up?” 

“Every time, of course,” Junmyeon says. “But death is part of life.” 

“Normally.” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says. “Normally.” 

“Sorry,” Sehun says, and he frowns at himself. “I don’t know why I’m... being like this. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. You cannot upset me with this sort of talk. You, on the other hand, you’re nearing your thirties. I’ve heard contemplating mortality is a common stepping stone in those years.” 

Sehun grins even as he chucks a pillow at Junmyeon’s head. 

“Am I stepping somewhere good, do you think?” Sehun wonders. 

“We can only hope,” Junmyeon says, and he turns his back, fiddles with his shopping bag. “Now, would you like to see what I picked up for you?” 

Sehun is touched, but when Junmyeon wheels back around, holding the matching fanny pack up into the air triumphantly like a championship belt, he changes his mind.  
  


∇

  
  
Much as he likes to keep a thin layer of sarcasm draped over him at all times, there is something about the trip that makes him throw it from his shoulders.

Junmyeon excitedly navigates the Disney app, setting up their itinerary like it’s a school trip, and Sehun is keen to be hauled from park to park under the blistering Florida sun. They have fast passes to every ride they want to go on, manage to barely wait in line with Junmyeon’s excellent planning. Junmyeon doesn’t scream on the rides, but Sehun screeches, and Junmyeon finds it fun to imitate him after each and every drop. 

They find the most horrifically cute souvenirs, and they buy them for each other. They eat some of the finest park food the world has to offer, drinking their way around the showcase in EPCOT: margaritas in Mexico, sake in Japan, wine in France, beer in Canada. 

“Ah,” Sehun says, getting a little wobbly as they walk back towards the big golf ball, “got to pace myself. We still have, like, several hours until our dinner reservation.” 

“We can skip it, if you’d prefer,” Junmyeon says. “The food is very good, but I’m sure I could nurse you back to sobriety on room service Hawaiian pizza.” 

“You monster,” Sehun groans. “You absolute monster. Ham on a pizza.” 

“You need to expand your horizons,” Junmyeon says. 

That’s all Junmyeon does. Expand his horizons. Sehun kisses him wetly on the cheek, snickering as Junmyeon smacks a hand to cover it.  
  


∇

  
  
Sehun sits down in the circular theater, and he feels Junmyeon’s eyes on him. He turns. Stares back.

“What?” 

“This is my favorite attraction. It is a twenty-one minute Audio-Animatronics show,” Junmyeon says. “I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

“Really?” Sehun says, and he looks around at the two other people joining them in the theater. “_This_ is your favorite attraction?” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says cheerfully. “I like boring things.” 

“Oh my god,” Sehun says, and he pulls Junmyeon into a kiss as the theme song to the Carousel of Progress begins, a tune that sticks in his brain for the rest of the day, practically for the rest of the trip.  
  


∇

  
  
They have a park hopper pass for each day of their trip, but Junmyeon makes sure to stress that it isn’t necessary to go every single day, that the vacation is for relaxation, recovery, and enjoyment.

On the fourth day, they stay at the hotel, feet aching with all the walking, and they lounge by the pool for the afternoon, imbibing something that Junmyeon calls a _Pago Pago Pain Killer_. Sehun doesn’t know what’s in it. He just knows that he likes drinking one as he gets to stare at Junmyeon’s half-naked body. 

Junmyeon tries to get him to agree to the Spirit of Aloha show for dinner, but Sehun wants steak, so they go to the Kona. 

“Best steak in Disney,” Junmyeon says. 

They sit across from each other amidst amber light, toasting with plum wine as they eat the best steak in Disney, their hands tied together after all is said, done, drank, eaten. 

“Shoot over to the Magic Kingdom?” Junmyeon asks. “Or are you too tipsy for that?” 

“We can go,” Sehun says. “Fireworks.” 

“Precisely,” Junmyeon says. “We’ll make it just in time if we hurry.” 

So they jump on the monorail, zip through security, and they run hand in hand, rejuvenated by their day of rest. They barely make it into the park, Main Street flooded with people to watch the evening show. 

And the lights dance in the air, booms of light and the shuddering, cracking noise that follows, and Sehun watches in teary-eyed awe, something so normal and still so incredibly beautiful about it. He feels eyes on him, and he looks, the pinks, blues, yellows streaking across Junmyeon’s face. 

“What are you doing?” Sehun asks. 

“I’ve seen this show a lot,” Junmyeon says, “but I’ve never seen you see it. It’s better this way. Watching you.” 

Sehun lets a tear fall down his face as he pulls him into a kiss, a furious, wonderful, eternal kiss. _If this isn’t forever_, he thinks, _then I don’t know what is._  
  


∇

  
  
Junmyeon is right. There is enough to do and see in Disney to keep coming back, and while Sehun is not overly fond of the company, he certainly sees the appeal as he’s there, strangely swept up by all the magic, transported to somewhere better.

On their last day, they spend it wandering the Magic Kingdom, eating popcorn from a souvenir bucket, and Sehun dreads going back to reality, a place that isn’t just them, a place where they aren’t wrapped up in each other like this. 

They stand at the center of the bridge, staring up at the castle. 

“If you stand here long enough,” Junmyeon says, “you will see someone propose.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’ve seen a lot of proposals,” Junmyeon says with a little smile. “It’s one of my favorite things to watch.” 

“Ever been proposed to?” Sehun asks. 

“No. Not yet.” 

“Not once? Not in nine hundred years?” 

“Nearly one thousand,” Junmyeon corrects. 

“Not once? Not him?” 

“Not once. Not him.” 

They stare up at blue sky, at clouds, at spires and magic and dreams. 

Sehun drops to his knee, and at first, Junmyeon does not even notice. Only once Sehun clears his throat does he turn, and then, he gasps. 

“Are you... proposing to me?” Junmyeon asks. 

“Um, maybe,” Sehun says. “If you say yes, then yes, I am.” He looks sheepishly to his foot. “I don’t have a ring or anything.” 

Junmyeon blinks at him. 

“Isn’t it quite early for something like this?” 

Sehun stares up at him, and then quickly, the fog dissipates, and as he shakes his head, he stands. 

“Holy shit, I don’t know what I’m thinking, I’m not... I’m not ready to get married, but I just... I don’t know, I wanted to do something you’ve never done before, and I just—” 

Junmyeon takes his hands, pulls him into a kiss that quiets him. 

“Sehun.” 

Sehun looks into his eyes. 

“Yes?” 

“I have never taken anyone to Disney World before,” Junmyeon says. “Is that good for now?” 

“Until I’m... until I’m ready? You’d get married to me?” 

“If you wanted,” Junmyeon says, and he says it like it’s so obvious, like they’re something. Like they matter. Like it’s not just a blip. “I love you.” 

“You love me?” Sehun asks. “Really?” 

Junmyeon laughs lightly. 

“Is it so shocking?” 

“A little,” Sehun says. “You’re... well, you’re... I don’t know, you’re magic.” 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, gathers him up in a hug. 

“And here I thought you were supposed to be good with words,” Junmyeon says to Sehun’s chest. 

“Not good at words,” Sehun says. “Just good with the truth.”


	2. the option of you

Junmyeon wakes Sehun in the middle of the night. 

“Did you know that your book is currently sitting at sixth on the New York Times Bestseller List, above _Where Oranges Meet Apples_ and below _Over and Besides_?” Junmyeon says, and he aims his phone over at Sehun as if he wouldn’t have believed him otherwise. 

He keeps Sehun up to date on his rankings, and Sehun genuinely thinks Junmyeon might care more about it than _he_ does, maybe even more than his _mom_. Or heaven forbid, his _agent_. 

“Paperback or hardcover?” 

“Paperback, but that isn’t important,” Junmyeon smiles. 

“Thank you,” Sehun says sleepily. “That information is very important to me now, at…” and he squints at the phone’s vaguely orange display, “3:48 a.m.” 

“I knew you’d care,” Junmyeon smiles, and he kisses Sehun on the forehead. “Ah, I could _feel_ that you’d overtake that worthless sludge above you. And now look. Sixth!” 

“I am rocketing towards the moon,” Sehun whispers. 

“Next stop: Mars,” Junmyeon says, starry-eyed. 

“Are you sure you aren’t tired?” 

“Not even a little,” Junmyeon says. 

“You wouldn’t care to pretend for a while?” 

Junmyeon smiles as he puts his phone back on the bedside table, and Sehun sighs in pleasure as they embrace under the covers. 

“Deep down inside, you love this. Even though you’d never admit it, you’re secretly very happy that I keep track,” Junmyeon informs him quietly. 

“Yes,” Sehun whispers. “Secretly, it tickles me.” 

Junmyeon huffs out a little laugh, and then, he slips into pretend sleep. It helps Sehun fall asleep, and he’s a very good boyfriend.  
  


∇

After they returned from Disney, Sehun had to remind himself that he didn’t want to move too quickly. He had to pump the brakes. It’s just that… Junmyeon is fucking effervescent. So simple, yet so complicated. So arresting and so lovely. So, _so_ easy to fall for. Easy to lose himself inside.

Junmyeon looks at Sehun over his coffee and over his glasses, slipping down his nose as he reads. 

“Filthy boy,” Junmyeon scolds. “Absolutely perverted.” 

“I didn’t mean _inside_,” Sehun says fervently. “I meant… _inside_.” He pats his chest. 

“Truly, my love, you have a way with words.” 

“Figurative language is hard in the morning,” Sehun grumbles, and he grabs his coffee. “What are you up to today?” 

“Oh, the usual,” Junmyeon says. “A couple classes. Lunch with a colleague. Yearning to rest within your arms once more.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re very sweet?” 

“It is a common comment, if you’d believe.” Sehun rolls his eyes, and Junmyeon laughs. “And you? What is on your agenda, my dear?” 

“Heading home soon,” Sehun says. “Writing.” 

“The sophomore offering,” Junmyeon shakes his head with a smile. “You will excite and titillate and astound—as is your wont.” 

“Nobody’s gonna like it. It’s too different. It’s too weird.” 

“Ah, but you’re so _dynamic_ and _varied_,” Junmyeon says. “For a burgeoning writer, these things are positives, not negatives. You are not guided by the trends, you set the trends. You _lead_ the artistic movement.” 

“It’s about robots,” Sehun frowns. 

“Artificial intelligence,” Junmyeon says, waving a hand. “Relationships between creator and created. Discussions about when autonomy is truly autonomous. Can a computer think? Can they feel as we feel? Love as we love? Will we give them the personalities we long for? Will their struggles mirror our own? When does the line become blurred? When does the subjugation of the artificial class move from intellectual debate to world issue? How will it affect the way we create biological life?” 

“I am dumb,” Sehun says. “Truly stupid.” 

“Not so,” Junmyeon says, and he nudges Sehun with his foot under the table. “You are a young master.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sehun grimaces. “Makes me feel like Bruce Wayne.” 

“Shall I call you sir?” 

“You are no Alfred.” 

“Much too handsome and much too old,” Junmyeon smiles, brushing a hand across his face. “At least finish your coffee before you leave. It was very expensive.” 

“When I already told you I’m okay with Nescafe.” 

“I’m trying to broaden your horizons,” Junmyeon says, waving his hands like he’s begging Sehun to catch on. 

“Let me be a rube,” Sehun says. “Let me wallow in my own inadequacy.” 

“There is a time and place for all things,” Junmyeon says. “It’s important to experience the _scope_ of humanity.” 

“You’re so annoying when we talk about coffee.” 

“I’m annoying when we talk about anything,” Junmyeon corrects. “Will you be home for dinner?” 

_Home_, Sehun thinks. _Is that what Junmyeon’s place is now? Is this my home?_

He rarely keeps food in his apartment, only keeps the bare essentials there for when Junmyeon is out of town or he needs a quiet place to write. They’ve been together for the better part of three years now, and while he dove headfirst into things early on, maybe he’s been dragging his feet as of late. 

“Yeah,” Sehun says, and he sips from his cup. “I’ll be home.” 

Junmyeon smiles brightly. “Wonderful. Would you like short ribs?” 

“I would love short ribs.” 

“Short ribs shall be yours, lover,” Junmyeon says, and as Sehun drains what’s left of his coffee, Junmyeon shoos him away. “Go, go. Write the next classic. Create. Bend language to your will.”

Sehun bites his lip before he leans down, pressing a kiss to Junmyeon’s cheek. He can’t help feeling like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, not just to perform artistically but to… be worthy of someone like Junmyeon.  
  


∇

He writes all through the morning and the afternoon, and still, he only manages to tick off 500 words.

“Five hundred words is nothing to sneeze at, you goof,” Junmyeon advises, voice muffled through the phone.

“I’m sneezing,” Sehun says. “I’m sneezing so much.” 

“That’s because you’re allergic to good sense,” Junmyeon says. “Have you got a rash? I’ve got an antihistamine called _truth_.” 

“Ugh, I hate your jokes,” Sehun laughs, and he adds a few more words. _He grabbed the bottle in a tight fist._ “How is your day going?” 

“As all days go,” Junmyeon says wistfully. “In general, you would not believe how little college students care about Henry James.” 

“I do not blame them.” 

“Not a fan?” 

“_The Wings of the Dove_ put me to sleep,” Sehun confesses. 

Junmyeon gasps theatrically. “You dare?” 

“I dare,” Sehun says. 

“You know, James himself was quite critical of the work,” Junmyeon says, “even though everyone else praised it as one of his best.” 

“So he had one good thought in his whole career,” Sehun shrugs. “Big whoop.” 

Junmyeon laughs, light in his chest, and it makes Sehun’s stomach twist. He likes making Junmyeon laugh like that. 

“We must agree to disagree,” Junmyeon says, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “James is one of my favorites.” 

“Who else?” Sehun smiles, knowing what he will hear. 

“Well certainly Tolkien, García Márquez, Ogawa, and _you_,” Junmyeon says, and the smile sounds so pretty. “Don’t tell the others, but it is my personal belief that you wash the rest.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” Sehun says. “I won’t.”  
  


∇

He returns to Junmyeon that evening, laptop in his bag, feeling a million kinds of defeat. The day has got the best of him once again. As soon as he walks into the house, he smells something delicious, absolutely _wonderful_, and that’s pretty good for changing his tune.

“Short ribs,” Sehun says excitedly, and he sets his bag down as he toes off his shoes at the door. “I’m here.” 

Junmyeon pokes his head out into the foyer a moment later, a frilly white apron tied around his neck and waist. 

“My love,” Junmyeon says excitedly. “How was the journey?” 

“_Journey_,” Sehun scoffs. “Like I’ve been through Dol Guldur.” 

“Every step is a journey,” Junmyeon says, and he disappears back behind the wall, raising his voice to say. “Yes, each and every one. We must remember.” 

“The journey was fine,” Sehun says. “Though my rations of waybread are running low.” 

“Alas, I’ll I’ve got to sustain you this night are sticky short ribs, cucumber kimchi, and a rolled seaweed omelette, weary wanderer.” 

Sehun follows Junmyeon’s voice, padding bare feet into the kitchen. Junmyeon is portioning the meat, and Sehun wraps his arms around his waist. 

“Let me share your fire, sweet stranger,” Sehun whispers, pressing a kiss to Junmyeon’s neck. “I can pay, if you’d like.” 

“Yes,” Junmyeon whispers, and he tilts his head to the side so that Sehun can suck a kiss to his throat. “Man, you are very good at that.” 

Sehun groans. “We were role-playing. You always do this.” 

“It’s just very easy to love you no matter who we are pretending to be.” 

Sehun groans louder. “You’re so fucking cute.” 

“So cute,” Junmyeon whispers. “Reward me with a proper kiss, oh love of mine.” 

Sehun spins him easily, hands on his neck as he licks into his mouth. He presses their bodies together eagerly, swallows Junmyeon’s happy, satisfied sounds. Sometimes, they get caught in the swing of daily life. Sehun forgets what he has right in front of him. _Cherish each moment_, he reminds himself. _You won’t be here forever. You won’t be able to love him for the rest of time itself._

“You’re kissing me very passionately right now,” Junmyeon smiles, body swaying against Sehun’s. “Is that because you have a very particular sexual proclivity for meat, or is it because—”

“No reason,” Sehun whispers, and he pulls him back into the kiss so that he can stop analyzing Sehun’s motivations. He’s too good at that. 

“Dinner will get cold if you try to fuck me,” Junmyeon whispers, a sly grin on his face like that’s exactly what he’d like most of all. 

“I know, I know,” Sehun says, and he puts an inch between them. Even that is sobering. Even that is enough to clear his head. “I just… I’ve missed you.” 

Junmyeon pokes him in the chest. “You’re usually the one chastising me for statements such as these.” He folds his arms. “After one day?” He smiles, pleased. “You’re easy.” 

“I know. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” 

“Perhaps you’ve come to a realization,” Junmyeon suggests.

“Like?” 

“You _like me_ like me,” Junmyeon needles, and Sehun scoffs. “Come on, let’s eat, you rapscallion. You rambling man, you.”  
  


∇

The next steps in their relationships are obvious, and they have been obvious from the very beginning. Moving in with Junmyeon should be relatively easy, considering Sehun spends most nights there anyway and most of his stuff is there. Proposing… that’s another matter entirely.

His face heats with shame as he thinks back to the bridge, the castle, sinking to his knee… Junmyeon’s face. He wants that again. He wants that surprise, that look of shock and delight and… _new_. 

Sehun slaps a hand to his face as he sits by the window, cool spring breeze filtering in and rustling the curtain gently. It helps to rid him of redness, helps to refocus his mind. He’s meant to be working, writing, not… day-dreaming about Junmyeon. 

In his mind, he conjures a picture of Junmyeon, the line of his body, the curve of his mouth. There is magic in everything he does, and Sehun wants to capture that in words. 

He begins to type, and the wind sends a chill up his spine.  
  


∇

Sehun looks up rings while he’s at his apartment, and he makes a mental note to scrub his search history afterwards. Junmyeon sometimes uses his computer when he doesn’t feel like going to grab his own, and Sehun would hate for something to pop up, especially when he’s so intent on giving Junmyeon a new experience.

He tries to find something simple but still intricate, something classic but modern, natural but otherworldly. As it turns out, he has no idea what he’s looking for, no fucking clue at all, and he gets nowhere. 

He’s stepping out of turn, he thinks. Moving, that should be first on his list. Then, the rings will come. Then, he’ll be ready.  
  


∇

Sehun looks at the closet space in the bedroom, and he frowns.

“What’s wrong?” Junmyeon asks, and he hooks his chin over Sehun’s shoulder. “Why are you looking at my wardrobe?” 

Sehun can’t _admit_ what he was doing, of course, much too embarrassed to say _I was looking to see if you’d have room for the rest of my things_, so he scrambles for something else to remark upon. 

“Where’d you get all this streetwear?” he asks. 

“From streetwear brands,” Junmyeon says, and Sehun giggles. “Is that so funny?” 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Why?” 

“I dunno, you’re just very… you know,” Sehun says, and he gestures back at Junmyeon. “_Academic_.” 

“Academia is a fundamentally flawed and corrupt system,” Junmyeon frowns.

“You’re _in_ academia.” 

“Does this preclude me from criticizing?” 

“I suppose not.” 

“I will continue to stock Pleasures in peace,” Junmyeon says, and he lets go of Sehun’s waist, warmth seeping away from Sehun with his absence. “Come back to bed.” 

“All right,” Sehun says, but he stands there for another couple seconds, imagining his own things next to Junmyeon’s. 

_Is there room for me? _

_If there isn't, would he make room?_  
  


∇

He finds it difficult to stay in the moment when his mind is always somewhere else, and apparently, Junmyeon takes notice.

They were right in the middle of something, a relatively _big_ something, in Sehun’s opinion. Junmyeon slows his kisses along the length of Sehun’s cock, and Sehun blinks several times as Junmyeon rests his head along Sehun’s thigh. 

“What are you doing?” Sehun asks breathlessly. 

“Are you feeling all right?” Junmyeon asks. 

“W—Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You aren’t even moaning,” Junmyeon says. 

“S-Sorry?” 

“Thank you,” Junmyeon says. “But that does not stop my worry.” 

“You’re worried because I wasn’t moaning,” Sehun clarifies. 

“Well, there could be two reasons for this,” Junmyeon says, and he gives Sehun’s cock an idle stroke of his hand. “Either my oral sex skills have rapidly diminished over the course of, oh, let’s say the past day…”

“They haven’t.” 

“Correct,” Junmyeon says, “so that leads me to believe that there is something on your mind that is preventing you from enjoying this incredible blowjob that I am working so very hard on.” 

Sehun looks away, caught, and Junmyeon crawls up his body. 

“Sehun,” Junmyeon says.

“W-What?” 

“Talk to me.” 

“I am talking to you.”

“Don’t be funny with me,” Junmyeon says. “I love you, I cherish you. I want to ensure your happiness for as long as I can.” 

“You do,” Sehun assures him. “You do everyday.” 

“And yet,” Junmyeon says. 

“What?” 

“There is something looming over you,” Junmyeon says, and he pets along Sehun’s shoulder. “You—hm, I’m not sure what it is, honestly, but truth be told, I know that whatever it is, we can overcome it.” 

Sehun laughs sadly. “It’s not… it’s not like that.” 

“You aren’t unhappy?” 

“God, no,” Sehun says. 

Junmyeon visibly relaxes which is funny. He always holds himself so tall and tight. 

“Well then,” he says happily, “what seems to be the trouble?” 

Sehun waffles, not sure if this is the time or place to talk about this. _But then_, he tells himself, _if this isn’t the time, when will be the time? Is there a good time to talk about things that scare us? Do we tell ourselves it’s not the right time simply because we’re scared? Just because we want to put it off?_

“I think I want to live here, but I’m scared to ask,” Sehun says. “I’m scared it’s… it’s too late.” 

“Too late?” Junmyeon laughs. 

“It’s not funny to me,” Sehun says. “I… time isn’t a concern for you, but it is for me. It’s not something I can waste away. Y-You’ll live forever, but I won’t. I’ll—” 

“Die,” Junmyeon says simply. “Someday.” 

“A-And so…” 

“You think it doesn’t scare me?” Junmyeon asks. “You think I won’t care when you pass?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Sehun says. “I just…” 

“Sehun, your life has tangled itself within mine,” Junmyeon says. “A-And I’ve known mortality before, of course. I’ve known loss. But a loss like you… my love, I’m afraid it will haunt me for the rest of my days.” 

Tears leap to Sehun’s eyes, and he swipes them away. “Why are we talking about my impending death?” 

Junmyeon shrugs with a smile before he tugs Sehun into his arms. “You brought it up.” 

“This is a really silly conversation,” Sehun says, and he buries his face into Junmyeon’s neck. 

“I don’t think it’s silly,” Junmyeon says. “I think we’ve needed to have a talk like this one.” He strokes the flat of his palm up and down Sehun’s spine. “I think you’ve needed to get some things off your chest, so to speak.” 

“I’m just really scared about the future.” He says it quietly so that it can’t hurt him. “I’m scared about rejection. I’m scared about… a-about everything, honestly. I’m a coward.” 

Junmyeon laughs. “If everyone who was ever scared of the horrors of living was labeled a coward, then there would not be a brave one among us.” 

“What about you?” Sehun asks. “Not even you?” 

“Certainly not me.” 

“But you’re fearless.” 

“I’m coming up on my one thousandth birthday,” Junmyeon says. “It’s easy to be unafraid once you’ve confronted the things you once thought scared you.” 

“So you’re saying—” 

“That bravery comes with time, with experience,” Junmyeon nods. “With _trying_.” 

Sehun bites his lip, and he tries. 

“I want to live here.” 

Junmyeon smiles brightly, and the lights dance in his eyes. Sehun cannot resist that, all the poetry he’s got wrapped up inside him, and he shifts so that he can kiss him. Junmyeon knocks his forehead against Sehun’s once he’s through. 

“It is my opinion that you live here already,” Junmyeon says, “and thus, we don’t really need to have the conversation.” 

Sehun stares at him blankly. “Are you joking?”

“Why would I be joking?” 

“You’re the king of conversations,” Sehun says. “You wanna talk about everything.” 

“You know that I love you,” Junmyeon says. “You know that you are always welcome in my home. As far as I am concerned, this space belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me.” 

Sehun’s heart twists inside him. “Do you really mean that?” 

“You also know that I don’t say things that I don’t mean,” Junmyeon smiles. “Now that we’re both on the same page with how I’m feeling, why don’t you clue me in on how you’re feeling?” 

“I think I’ve accidentally… put things off,” Sehun says.

Junmyeon pets through Sehun’s hair, raking his fingernails across Sehun’s scalp. 

“Talk things out with me,” Junmyeon says. “You don’t have to figure things out on your own.” 

“I’m thirty-one,” Sehun whispers. “I feel like I’ve… missed the milestones.” 

“I’ve never been proposed to, never been married, never created life, and I’m nine-hundred and ninety seven,” Junmyeon whispers back. “Is this a competition? If so, I believe I’m winning.” 

Sehun swats at him, and it makes Junmyeon laugh. That lovely sound. 

“There is time for you,” Junmyeon says. “There is so much time.” 

“I know.” 

“But if you want to move forward with me, all you need to do is ask,” Junmyeon says. “I won’t know until you ask.” 

“I want to spend my life with you,” Sehun says. “As long as we have. As much time as we have, I’d like to… to spend it with you.” 

Junmyeon smiles as he pets through Sehun’s hair. “A romantic.” 

“It’s easy to be,” Sehun says. “Looking at you.” 

Junmyeon places a hand on his heart, and he falls onto his back as if he’s been struck with an arrow. Sehun laughs, chasing him, caging him in with an embrace. He stares down at him, Junmyeon’s hair splayed out against the pillow, and he brushes a lock of it away. 

“I love you,” Sehun whispers. “So much.” 

“My darling,” Junmyeon smiles, “if this was a competition, I’d win this too.” 

Sehun rolls his eyes, and he kisses Junmyeon hard as he snakes a hand down his body. Junmyeon arches his back, grinding himself into Sehun once more. It is incredibly easy, he finds, getting back to business.  
  


∇

They pack his things on Friday evening over pizza and beer, though there truly isn’t much besides clothes and cookware.

“This is very fetching,” Junmyeon says, and he holds up one of Sehun’s sweatshirts from college. He pins it against his shoulders as if trying it on. “May I wear this?” 

“Right now?” Sehun asks, folding up some of his older t-shirts. 

“If I’m granted permission.” 

“Knock your socks off,” Sehun says, and Junmyeon smiles as he threads his body through it. It settles over him like a short dress. “It looks good on you.” 

“You think everything looks good on me, my love,” Junmyeon smiles, and he flaps his little sweater paws in the air. “Why is it so large?” 

“Comfortable,” Sehun says. “Plus, I’m bigger than you.” 

“Bigger,” Junmyeon says, eyes gliding down Sehun’s body. “In many areas.” 

“And you call _me_ the pervert.” 

“There’s a reason we get along so well, sweetheart of mine,” Junmyeon says, and he hugs his arms around his body. “We’re both perverts.” 

Sehun’s imagination immediately goes to Junmyeon in nothing but his sweatshirt. He supposes Junmyeon is right. 

“We don’t have much more to do,” Junmyeon says. “We could—”

“Shouldn’t we wait?” Sehun asks. “We’re all greasy and stuff.” 

“Shower,” Junmyeon suggests. 

“So slippery.” 

“You’re young and spry,” Junmyeon says. “Plus, I’ve got the wisdom of ages.” 

“What does the wisdom of ages tell you about anal sex in the shower?” Sehun wonders. 

“Silicone based lube, a non-slip mat, and it's best to stick to frottage if you’re worried about dropping me,” Junmyeon says. 

“I was gonna _hold you up_?” 

“Against the wall,” Junmyeon says, and his eyes slip shut like he’s imagining it. “Hands over my head.” 

“Wait, how am I holding your hands over your head if I’m also shouldering your entire body weight?” Sehun asks. 

“We are allowed to fantasize,” Junmyeon scolds. “And fantasies are allowed to be fantastical.” 

“Fantastical is me having four arms?” 

“Four arms means four hands,” Junmyeon says. “Imagine the possibilities.” 

“Perhaps,” Sehun whispers, “perhaps.” 

“We’ve yet to explore these areas, so just... something to think about,” Junmyeon says with a grin. 

“What if I want to fuck you on this mattress one last time?” Sehun asks. 

“It has been exceedingly rare,” Junmyeon says wistfully. “You have lube?” 

Sehun groans. 

“Shower frotting it is,” Junmyeon says happily. “Come, let’s finish this work quickly. I’m excited to bring you to the very edge of pleasure before I deny you.” 

Sehun groans louder, but he folds with a bit more vim and vigor and Junmyeon does too.  
  


∇

It is not much of a change, moving in, but it does settle a part of Sehun’s brain that’s keen on checking off items on a to-do list. Next on the list, he tells himself, is the ring. They could plan a wedding, they could go on a honeymoon, they could adopt a fluffy black dog. It was all on the list.

“Can you run out and get coffee beans today?” Junmyeon asks, bumping his hip against Sehun’s as they stand in the kitchen. “We’re fresh out.” 

“_We’re_,” Sehun says happily. 

“You’re very easy to please, aren’t you? Yes, _we’re_ out of coffee. In _our_ house. If that isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” 

Sehun wiggles back and forth. 

“Absolutely precious,” Junmyeon praises, and he slaps Sehun on the butt quickly. “What are you working on today?” 

“I’m editing chapter seven,” Sehun says, and he raises his hands. “I don’t want to hear criticism.” 

“I’m only saying that there must be words written in order to edit them.” 

“I got words,” Sehun says. “I got so many good words.” 

“There’s my boy,” Junmyeon smiles. “Put them in the word document, will you?” 

Sehun throws his head back with an angry rumbling sound in his chest. 

“Coffee,” Junmyeon reminds him, a quick squeeze of Sehun’s ass. “All right, I’m off.” 

“Have a good day,” Sehun says, and a certain part of his heart unlocks, the distinctly domestic section in which he’s always loved indulging. Now, of course, he gets to share it with Junmyeon which makes it all the better.  
  


∇

Sehun finds the pair of rings on a resale website by mistake as he’s looking for a limited edition copy of a certain comic one of his friends wants for his birthday, but staring at the roped gold, Sehun quickly realizes that they are perfect, that everything else can wait.

He contacts the seller, and she gives him a lovely story for his troubles. Soulmates, she tells him, married for sixty-two years. And they passed within two weeks of each other. Sehun tears up just at the thought, and he can’t believe how fucking soft he is just because he’s in love. 

Junmyeon will like it, Sehun reminds himself. He likes that sort of thing. Human things. 

He purchases the rings that afternoon, and he eagerly awaits their shipment. 

When he gets them, it occurs to him that now, he’s actually got to ask. He’s actually got to _try_.  
  


∇

He formulates plan after plan, but in truth, nothing seems good enough. Junmyeon isn’t one for extravagant displays, but simpler things… a candlelit dinner, a midnight stroll through the park, a scavenger hunt, a photo-booth—none of those seem like something that screams _them_, and Sehun needs it to feel right.

After all, you don’t get engaged every century. 

Sehun is playing Candy Crush before bed, head full of possibilities as his fingers swipe, swipe, swipe. Junmyeon rests at his right, working on his crossword. They share quiet very easily; it’s one of Sehun’s favorite things about them. 

“Everything going all right with work?” Junmyeon asks softly, like he doesn’t want to break that quiet. 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “We’re… we’re moving along.” 

“Your agent isn’t being mean, right? You know I’ll threaten him, right?” 

“I know,” Sehun laughs. “No, everything is fine. No threats necessary.” 

A beat and another. Sehun looks up, and Junmyeon is staring at him. 

“You’ve been in your head a lot lately,” Junmyeon says. “Don’t tell me we’ve got to have another conversation. I’ll have you know I was once referred to as “the king of conversations” by the greatest young writer of this generation.” 

“Enough,” Sehun says, and he pats his stomach. “I can’t eat another bite.” 

“Oh, you’ll eat it and you’ll like it,” Junmyeon smiles, but the smile fades. “You’d tell me if it was something that needed to be said, wouldn’t you?” 

Funnily enough, that’s enough to make _Sehun_ smile. He sets his phone down at the bedside table, and he curls up at Junmyeon’s side. 

“Don’t you trust me?” 

“With all my heart, dear,” Junmyeon promises. 

“Then trust me on this one,” Sehun says. “Deal?” 

Junmyeon sighs, and he puts his crossword book down. He cuddles up close to Sehun. 

“Deal.”  
  


∇

In the end, the plan boils down to one thing. Trying. _Nothing else matters_, he reminds himself. _He just wants to love you._

They go to the lake in the autumn, and the trees dress in warm colors for the occasion. 

“Just like old times,” Junmyeon says happily, and as they sit on the bench, looking out over the water, he lays his head on Sehun’s shoulders. “This was a very sweet idea, angel.” 

“I thought so,” Sehun says. 

“Been thinking a lot about our past lately?” 

“A bit,” Sehun admits. 

“Ah, I can always tell you know,” Junmyeon says. “Well, I hope you know that, without you attacking me in the wine cellar as we looked over my vintages, we wouldn’t be here.” 

“First of all, I didn’t attack you,” Sehun says. “But… you really never would have made a move?” 

Junmyeon moves him with a shrug. “It was not my place. It was your decision to make.” 

“A-And because I made a decision?”

“Action is often rewarded,” Junmyeon says. He knocks his head against Sehun’s shoulder. “Just another little lesson for you.” 

“You never stop teaching.” 

“Never.” 

Sehun bites his lip, and he reaches into his pocket. He slips out from underneath Junmyeon, who sits up, confused. He sinks to his knee in front of Junmyeon, and he watches the look of surprise, shock, delight… 

_New._

“W—You’re proposing to me?” Junmyeon asks. “Now?” 

“After college, you used to bring me here,” Sehun says. “You used to give me advice. You brought me coffee. Almond milk, no sugar.” He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t remember the first thing you said to me, but… but I know I fell in lust with you over Tolkien, and I fell in love over coffee. Is that stupid? Is that terrible?” 

“It’s the least stupid, least terrible thing I’ve ever heard,” Junmyeon says with a teary smile. 

“Once I found you, I’ve never had a question about whether or not you were the person for me,” Sehun confesses, and he sets the box on the bench, taking Junmyeon’s hands in his. “I’ve never once thought about someone else. A-And not that that would invalidate my feelings, not that that would change anything, but… I was so sure. I _am_ so sure about you, Junmyeon.” 

“You are?” 

“I’ve never been so sure,” Sehun says, and he takes Junmyeon’s hands in his. “Sometimes it’s hard for me… to make up my mind, to make decisions. But it’s like—I dunno. This decision was made for me. This was a cosmic decision. This was something that was supposed to happen. This was written into who I am. I was someone meant to fall in love with you. I was meant to spend my life with you.” 

“Sehun—,” he whispers. 

He tightens his hold on Junmyeon’s hands. “Even if it’s just for a blink of your life. Even if it’s negligible in the long run, I—” 

Junmyeon falls to his knees in front of Sehun, and he kisses him with all the passion that a century of longing can hold. 

“You could never be negligible,” Junmyeon whispers, his mouth against Sehun’s like they were born that way, sharing breath. “You are everything to me.” 

Sehun breaks into a smile, all the action rewarded. 

“S-Same,” Sehun whispers. 

“_Same_,” Junmyeon smiles, and he tilts his head to the side, amused. “Do I reduce you to such simplicity, darling?” 

“Yeah,” Sehun says. “You do.” 

“As you reduce me to simplicity,” Junmyeon smiles. “Shall I give you a simple answer, then?” 

Sehun nods eagerly, and that action too, Junmyeon rewards him with a kiss. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, squeezing Sehun’s hands in his. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”  
  


∇

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wah, i do love writing in this universe..... it comes very easily to me lkjasdlkj i dont know why. love to write like a Hip Immortal i guess lfkjsalkjg i sincerely hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> whew! sorry if this was hot trash, i finished it about four minutes ago. thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed it. i cannot stop thinking about the very cute old, old version of junmyeon who just wants to feel the wind in his hair bc simple pleasures, my friends, simple pleasures. 
> 
> ya i made sehun win the jack kerouac writer in residence project bc i can literally do anything i want, and it just like felt really good to me. idk! 
> 
> if you liked it, share it with all your friends and tell them about my work. if you didn't like it, just please don't report me to the FBI over that jeff bezos line 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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